


Fifteen Years

by RuminantMonk



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 07:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3125417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuminantMonk/pseuds/RuminantMonk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avatar Korra dies young.  Asami reflects on the years she shared with Korra in the wake of the metal poison and the toll it took on Korra's health.</p><p>  <i>It is not how she had imagined it, her life cut short violently and suddenly in a momentous battle.  A hero’s death.  Or old and warm, tucked away in bed surrounded by family and friends, their loving faces spanning multiple generations.  A peaceful, earned death.</i></p><p>  <i>Instead, her death is an anti-climax, brought about by a fight she’d long put behind her.  Except there was no moving past it, the consequences forever lingering, leeching strength from her muscles, eating away at the core of her bones, and sucking away the very air from her lungs.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Fifteen Years

Avatar Korra dies young.

The youngest discovered avatar when, as a toddler, she displayed her bending prowess, shaping and flinging three out of four elements with her tiny hands. In the last years of her life, the Avatar bends only a single element: air. Air, to breathe, to sustain what her own lungs can barely circulate on their own. Air, to survive, for the damage the metal poison wrought never ceased. By the end, it is resignation that pulls her spirit away, leaving her body in quiet expiry.

It is not how she had imagined it, her life cut short violently and suddenly in a momentous battle. A hero’s death. Or old and warm, tucked away in bed surrounded by family and friends, their loving faces spanning multiple generations. A peaceful, earned death.

Instead, her death is an anti-climax, brought about by a fight she’d long put behind her. Except there was no moving past it, the consequences forever lingering, leeching strength from her muscles, eating away at the core of her bones, and sucking away the very air from her lungs.

Avatar Korra is survived by everyone. Her masters and mentors, her closest friends, her many acquaintances scattered across the Earth Kingdom, the new members of the Air Nation. Senna and Tonraq, a mother and father who must now bury their only child. Even her murderer outlives her, white-haired and floating in his cell, bound and chained, yet untouchable.

And Asami Sato. With whom she shared fifteen years of love without regrets.

Asami stands on Air Temple Island, watching the sun set into Yue Bay. Orange turns to red, and rich purple bleeds up into the sky, the lively clouds glowing pink from their underbellies. This is her favorite time of day, when change manifests in a canvas of softly undulating colors and rich light. The best kind of change, the kind that leaves sublime beauty with each shift, each passing moment. Every sunset is different, transient and impossible to commit to memory, leaving the viewer aching from the brilliance of its whims.

Fifteen years is a long time. It is a little less than half of Korra’s whole life.

Asami thinks of the future, of how many years lay ahead of her. As time stretches out into the unseeable horizon, her time with Korra will grow smaller and smaller until it amounts to a fraction of her own life’s journey. A small fraction only in numbers, for fifteen years is a long time, a lifetime.

Asami sits down under the gazebo and crosses her legs, spine straight and arms bent. She tries to meditate. Instead, she enters the realm of memory, however it may hurt now.

 

\--

 

Strong hands laced through hers, a warm body above her. Korra’s dark brown locks hang down, tips tickling Asami's cheeks. Mouths connect, soft lips coaxing each other open under the soft demand of tongues and teeth. Kissing Korra is a dance of intuition, a delicate cycle of call and response. Kissing Korra is possibly the easiest thing she's ever done, an act they could both do endlessly without tiring. Korra presses gently into her. Asami holds her closer, arms looped over rippling shoulders, fingertips running down the curve of her spine, lazily tracing the long dip up, then down again. Below her collarbones, she can feel Korra’s heart thundering against her own, the two beating in tandem. Asami shuts her eyes and feels herself being pulled forward and instinctively wraps her legs around Korra's waist, thighs gripping around sturdy hips. She feels Korra tuck her strong arms under knees and around her thighs, muscle flexing against muscle. Suddenly, Korra pulls her close until  their bodies angle back, perpendicular to the ground. Asami tightens around bare, brown shoulders as she is lifted above the ground. Korra rises until she's standing with Asami’s body wrapped fast all around her. They kiss again and she marvels at the Avatar’s strength. Rooted to nothing but Korra, held and grounded in only skin and muscle, Asami thinks she can stay like this forever.

 

\--

 

It is many years later that Korra’s muscles begin to deteriorate. Running is painful and walking soon becomes a chore. At the end of every day, Asami draws a hot bath for her, sprinkling in handfuls of mineral salt to help with the continual ache. Most evenings, she just sits beside her, stroking damp hair away from her sweaty brow, ready with a glass of water or a fluffy towel. On some evenings, Asami joins her in the tub. Those nights always end with Korra in her arms, the Avatar’s back resting against her chest, her head leaning back easily on her clavicle. Curls of steam rise from the hot water and beads of sweat gather on their exposed skin. Time slows to a gentle crawl, and here, together, Korra and Asami soak in a moment's worth of peace, grateful for the reprieve.

When it becomes clear that this condition is here to stay, that it will only worsen with time, Asami begins carrying the Avatar to bed after her nightly baths. At first, she’s met with the angry flash of Korra’s pride – it almost makes her nostalgic for when they were teenagers – but embarrassment soon gives way to fatigue and resistance evaporates as soon as it had arrived. Korra allows herself to be folded her up into Asami’s arms and taken to the warmth of their bed. Eventually, it is a comfort for the both of them.

Near the end, the Avatar is perpetually short of breath. Tenzin teaches her breathing techniques, a form of airbending on the tiniest of scales. These techniques are effective and she breathes easy once more, long, calm breaths taken in and exhaled out in circular streams. Her mind is clearer for it. But the airbending techniques work only during waking hours; she must be conscious to execute them. At night, the breaths issued forth from Korra’s nose and mouth are once more shaky, short, rattling. And so a new struggle arrives in the form of sleep. Within the first few minutes of falling asleep, Korra wakes up with a jolt, her heart racing and lungs aching. Asami awakes almost immediately after, provided she is even asleep at this point, what with Korra's fear having become her own. Their nightly ritual begins with Asami tucking herself behind Korra’s tense, curled body, her free arm wrapping around her, pressing a palm to her heart. Korra rolls over to face her and with her other hand, Asami takes Korra's and leads it to her chest, pressing and holding it firmly over her own heart. Korra learns to steady her heartbeat this way, guiding her lungs toward a more even rhythm by following the cadence set by Asami’s body.

On particularly bad nights when Korra feels like she is drowning, breaths choked out erratically, desperately, Asami holds her closer, gently pulls her head to the hollow between her breasts. With her ear flush against Asami’s heart, Korra chases each beat down until she falls asleep from exhaustion. In her dreams, she can hear someone beating a taiko drum in the distance, hidden somewhere within the pregnant, red clouds that have gathered on the horizon. Curiously, they pulse with light, heralding each thunderous beat.

 

\--

 

At the age of 30, Korra finds her first white hair. Three years later, the single strand has turned into a bright streak, starting at her part and framing her face. Asami tells her it brings out the blue in her eyes and Korra cannot help but laugh. _I’m serious,_ Asami says, recalling the time they found themselves trapped under a tree in the torrential rain, a fork of lightning breaking across the sky. It was but a lucky moment that Asami had chosen then to look into Korra's eyes. The sudden flash of light caught and refracted within impossibly blue irises, now luminous. And Asami, she herself caught in that split second, staring, held frozen and rapt. Even the subsequent clap of thunder could not shake her from where she stood.

Asami is careful not mention the other physical changes. Bones emerging in spaces once defined by powerful muscle. A newfound frailty. Asami still finds her beautiful, lithe and birdlike, and chooses to acknowledge these little changes through touch, rather than words: carefully placed kisses, soft drags of tender fingertips. One thing remains unchanged and for that, she is glad: Korra's eyes, unwavering, full of resolve, intent, and want. By this point, Korra rarely bends water, but whenever she holds her gaze, Asami cannot help but think of the churning waves of the morning sea, the icy depths of a glacier and all its crystalline angles.

\--

Over a quiet dinner following a particularly trying day marked with silence, Asami cannot help but be swayed by bitterness. A rare sentiment born from a place of fear and futility. Though she recognizes the weakness in this moment, she cannot help but think aloud.

_Do you think we're unlucky?_

More recently, Asami has been thinking of the moment she fell in love with Korra, years ago, while she lay still and broken on that mountain, eyes glowing defiantly in the face of death. She is thinking of how far the metal poison has chased them, how it haunts them still, a silent, silver ghost that never tires, will never rest.

What Asami means is that all of this is unfair.

But Korra is calm, has always been calm ever since the third spirit portal ripped open the sky, all of it her doing. Korra picks at her food, considering Asami's question thoughtfully.

_No. We've always been lucky._

\--

In the very last year, Jinora visits every week, without fail. Asami always greets her in their sunlit parlour with a tray of sweet rice cakes and steaming hot tea as she, Korra, and the airbending master exchange pleasantries. When they’ve finished their tea, Asami gathers their cups and takes the tray back into the kitchen, closing the parlour door behind her to leave Korra and Jinora alone to their mystery sessions. The purpose of these visits isn't shared with Asami, but she grants them their privacy anyway. During one visit, however, Asami passes by the parlour doors to find that they’ve been left slightly ajar. Curiosity sets in and she peeks through the crack: Korra and Jinora sit across from one another on the floor, their legs crossed and eyes closed. They are meditating. It occurs to her that she should learn how to meditate one of these days. She files away this thought, thinking she’ll corner Jinora the next week to ask if she’d be willing to give her a lesson or two.

Asami does not get this chance.

A few nights later in their bedroom, Korra turns to her and smiles. A crooked grin, Asami’s favorite of all of Korra’s smiles. It’s been quite some time since she’s seen it, infectious and toothy and full of life. This grin means something, so she smiles back, touches a hand to her cheek, and waits for Korra to speak. With a voice full of thinly veiled joy, Korra tells her how impressed she is with how she’s refrained from asking about her mystery dates with Jinora. _I figured I would wait for you to tell me when you were ready,_ Asami says, pressing a light kiss to the corner of her mouth.

 _Soon_ , Korra breathes, laughing a little. _I promise. Thanks for being so patient._

With that little remark, Asami nods, silently conceding to wait a little longer.

That night, it is Korra who holds Asami as she drifts off into sleep. Asami feels herself being lulled by the soft touch of fingers stroking through her hair. Through a thick haze of drowsiness, Asami takes note of Korra’s easy and effortless breathing – she cannot allow herself the luxury of slipping into unconsciousness without first making sure. She doesn't know what makes this night so easy, but Korra’s caresses are soft and langorous, matching her slow, even breathing and finally, Asami is coaxed deep into the dark. At the precipice of sleep, she thinks she hears Korra whisper, _I love you._

The next day, Korra is dead.

\--

Asami hears someone walk up behind her. She gives up trying to meditate and stands. She wipes away at the hot tears that have streaked down her cheeks and turns to address the stranger.

Jinora.

Jinora makes no mention of Korra’s death or Asami’s tears, instead silently takes her by the hand to lead her away from the gazebo.

They walk in silence, hand in hand. Jinora is taller than her, Asami notes off-handedly, not remembering when exactly this growth spurt occurred. Another effect of time.

It is nightfall by the time they reach their destination. Asami looks around, taking in her surroundings fully. Spirit vines all around her, bathed in golden light – her eyes trace back the thick tangles to see that they originate from a single point.

The spirit portal.

Jinora lets go of her hand and turns to her. With a slow flick of her chin, she motions toward the beam of light. Asami looks at her, questioning, and Jinora nods.

And so Asami approaches the portal slowly, looking up towards the sky to where the green and yellow helix disappear into the clouds, and steps in.

\--

Asami finds herself in a familiar field of fuchsia flowers. She remembers them as they were when she and Korra first ventured here fifteen years ago. A lifetime ago. Bending down to touch the petals, she feels the fresh onslaught of new tears.

_Asami._

A clear voice rings out behind her, steady and sure. Asami turns around.

It’s Korra, or at least the version of her that is clearest to Asami. She is young again, dark brown hair cropped at her chin, powerful dark arms clothed in aqua and white water tribe garments, her eyes bright and blue and open. She wears her trademark crooked grin, all youthful confidence and gleaming white. Korra at her most vibrant.

Asami runs to her, buries her head into Korra’s chest, sighs in relief when she feels the almost too tight squeeze of bare arms wrapped around her. Her breath hitches when Korra picks her up off the ground, spinning around, the both of them laughing. When she’s finally put back down, her feet planted flat on the ground, Asami pushes Korra backwards into the soft bed of flowers. Korra falls with a shout and a laugh. Asami props herself up on her arms so that she hovers above her, dark hair falling in a curtain over them both. Asami cannot even bring herself to question this moment. If it’s a dream, she doesn’t care. If it’s real …

Korra looks up at her, smiling. “I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you sooner, but I wasn’t sure if it’d work … Jinora recommended that I don’t until we knew for certain. Didn’t want to get your hopes up. Or mine, for that matter." She takes a lock of Asami’s hair between her fingers, twirling it around thoughtfully as a quiet smile ghosts over her lips, small and undercut with a hint of sadness. She speaks again, so softly that she’s almost whispering, “I didn’t mean to leave so soon. I thought I’d have more time.”

Asami bends down to kiss her then. As their lips softly touch, she cannot help but smile a little -- even in death, it is a foolish thing to underestimate the Avatar. Still kissing, Korra pulls them both into sitting position, Asami seated firmly on her lap. Korra pulls away gently and cradles either side of Asami’s face with both her hands. Asami closes her eyes.

“Hey.”

Asami opens her eyes. Korra is biting her lip, one of her nervous habits (a gesture so sweet and familiar that it almost makes Asami cry).

“You’ll have your life and I’m sorry I won’t be there for it,” she pauses and sighs. “But I’ll be here and I’ll wait for you for as long as it takes.” She looks down and takes Asami’s hands into hers, alternating between the two to kiss each and every knuckle. “And Jinora promised she’d teach you how to get here, eventually, when you’re ready.”

Asami surges forward then, pulling her into a tight hug and speaks, finally.

“Okay. When I’m ready. But, I never got to tell you that even though the time we had together was so short …” she can’t help but breathe in the scent of Korra’s hair. “Even that was enough. Fifteen years, that was time enough that I was lucky to have.”

Korra strokes her back and shoulders gently. “You’re right. We were lucky. We’re still lucky.”

They kiss again and Asami thinks that the years ahead of her no longer look so long and lonely, knowing that beyond them waits a place where time will stop following them both.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic in years. I've been lurking on AO3 and it took me forever to muster up the energy (and courage) to write something. This was prompted by something I saw on tumblr that suggested Korra would die relatively young due to mercury poisoning. It felt in line with the way Aang died, so I thought, why not? Korra and Asami deserve happiness, however, so I hope the ending I gave them was satisfying.
> 
> Also, I'm probably definitely going to make many edits, so apologies in advance for its changing state!


End file.
